Family Weekend Ch. 07: Off The Bench

All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old.

*****

Sally Martin finished her ablutions and gently dried her cunny with a soft towel. It remained tender and excited from Derek's huge dick while the rest of her still ached from unsatisfied need. She had come once, when he ate her out, but he blew his nuts too early when she had him deep inside. Philosophically, she understood how a 18-year old boy might be overwhelmed by a sudden unexpected sexual encounter with a pregnant 38-year old woman. Biologically, however, her horniness made no secret of itself. Her appetite had only been whetted by the raw exotic power freshly exhibited by the strapping black youth in her bed. Sally pulled a thin pink floral robe from the bathroom door hook and wrapped it around her growing 15-week baby bump and blossoming 37D+ breasts. The soft fleece lining cuddled her as the bias-cut acrylic fabric draped and clung to her curves. The shorty extended to mid-thigh but gapped, high across her chest, showing off her deepening cleavage. She opened the door and stepped into the master bedroom.

Derek lay naked on his back, sprawled like a 6' 4" gingerbread man, on the rumpled king-size bed. The coverlet and top sheet were bunched on the floor at the closet side of the bed. The fitted bottom sheet had pulled up on two corners, exposing the mattress seams above the box springs. His eyes were closed, his chest rose and fell gently, and his relaxed cock folded over his scrotum like a 10" bratwurst on a plate with pickled eggs. Sally crossed toward the bed, bent over and picked up her far flung green Bermuda shorts and her stained cotton panties, still damp from her cum and Derek's saliva. She walked around the bed to the closet where she tossed the shorts and briefs in her laundry hamper along with her retrieved peasant blouse and bra.

Derek opened first his right eye, then his left, and squinted sideways, watching Sally's robe hem creep higher on her backside as she reached in and pawed through the clothes she had earlier pushed back on the closet rod to make room for the ladder at the access panel to the attic. Barefoot on tiptoe, with her right arm extended, the shiny, silky, flowery robe pulled across her cheeks. He had an unobstructed view of her thighs joining at her dividing crease. Her full mature pussy lips drooped invitingly. His cock lifted its neck. Its purple-rose bulb pushed out of the protective black wrinkled foreskin, adding another inch to his length as rushing blood hardened his dark sponge into an obsidian bludgeon.

Silently Derek stole from the mattress and enveloped Sally in his long strong arms, cradling her heavy tits and pulling her haunches back against his standing joint. "OHH!" She squeaked with surprise as his dick flipped her robe's hem up and tucked itself against her bare bottom. She felt his shaft separate her cheeks with its weight. His dick's tip tapped her tailbone, leaving a slight tacky smear of pre-cum with each bobbing touch. "Derek! I thought you were napping. I was going to get you up after I put on more clothes." Her actions betrayed her as she twisted her hips and pushed back against his suspended balls, rubbing her ass on his staff.

"Well," Derek said, with substantially less shyness than when they had met a scant hour earlier, on the front porch, with his aunt Keanna Harris. "You... already got me... uh, UP. You gonna set me down again, coach, or... uh, PUT me IN?" He felt her nipples stiffen in his fingers and he pressed them back against her areolae, rubbing them in loose circles, feeling every little bump and ridge on the stretchy skin. "I'm pretty sure I can score BIG time... Give me my SHOT!" He hissed and clutched her breasts tightly.

Sally gasped as Derek's rigid finger tips sunk through her boobs to her ribs, sending sparking flashes of erotic energy directly to her cunt. She felt herself melt. Derek stepped back, pulling and twisting her to her left, guiding Sally to the bed's edge. She buried her feet beneath the piled covers and bent over the mattress, scooping a pillow under her pregnant tummy. Derek dropped her right boob and hiked her pink floral print above her shoulders, draping the loose robe over Sally's head. He pushed his hand between her legs and felt the wetness leeching from her twat, dribbling down the inside of her thighs. He pulled his hand to his mouth and sucked his fingers, sliding his meat in their place into her soaked cunny.

"Oh, yeah, Ms. Martin," Derek chuckled as his dick pushed home, "I'm in the paint, now!" Her cunt walls expanded, accommodating his great girth, then squeezed in, crowding around him, grabbing his textured stalk, pulling him further, even as he yanked her hips and lurched his pelvis, driving his prick in to its limit and nudging her back wall with its big soft nose.

"UUUUnnnn!" Sally groaned. "Yessss, yesss, uhhnnnn, HOLD IT THERE!" She cried, clenching her thighs, crunching her belly and clamping herself onto his huge member.

"Nuh-uh, Ms. Martin," Derek growled, low in his throat, shaking his head. "Not THIS time... I'm gonna FUCK you until you BEG for MERCY... You gonna come so HARD... come SO LONG... you gonna keep coming 'til you... FORGET my first mistake." He pulled himself back and launched forward slowly, deeply, with a twisting rotation of his pelvis, while he slid his hands from Sally's tits to her waist and back again to her tits, setting fires along her rib cage with every stroke and rewind.

Sally puffed, moaned, cried and snorted. Derek maintained his pace and sliding grip, accenting the top of every thrust with a flex and a grunt. "Hyunh! Hyunh! Hyunh!" He humped her hard, grinning as he saw beads of sweat pop on Sally's writhing back while he listened to her whimpering chorus of yips and yelps.

"Yess! Yess! OH YESSS!" Sally screamed. "HERE I COME... NOW! Give it to me... NOW!" Her voice trembled in her urgency. Her body shook within Derek's iron vice. Her cunt creamed around his steel piston.

"Nuh-uh," Derek denied her plea, breathing harder, but still in control. "Hyunh! BEG me!... Hyunh! COME ON, Ms. Martin! You... ain't... Hyunh! Done... YET!" He released her left breast and gaffed her shoulder muscle. Letting go of her right tit, he slapped her right ass cheek. "Hyunh! ARE YOU?" He drove and retreated, again and again, whipping her down the home stretch.

Sally thrashed and rolled, unable to escape his fierce hold, weeping with cosmic joy as her orgasm doubled, then tripled itself. "OH PLEASE!" She screeched. "PLEASE, Derek, PLEEEAAAASSSEEEE! Give it TO ME! I NEEED your SEEEED!"

Derek was thrilled to be so lucky as to hold out. His nuts were so fully charged, so tightly wrapped and crying for release, that he had momentarily feared he had overpromised. When he heard Sally's prayer he answered promptly. The room darkened as he grimaced and shut his eyes while his cock shot stream upon stream from his eggs to hers. "They just dumb little fuckers. Don't know, don't care, she pregnant already!" He thought giddily to himself as he pumped her pussy full of his hot thick semen.

Sally sank into the mattress, her hands clawed the bottom sheet to her face, wiping her perspiration from her cheeks and forehead as she wound down from her climax. Derek started laughing, uncontrollably, helplessly, as he swelled with pride in his accomplishment and shrunk with fatigue in her twat. He stepped back and pulled his long limp dick with his hand, wiping off their mixed juices with his strong thin fingers, then rubbing them into Sally's ass. He crawled up on the bed, lay on his side and looked at the corrupted white MILF. Stroking Sally's hair, he asked softly, "How'd I do, coach?"

Sally turned her head and grinned at the youth. "Just fine, Thumper," she answered. "Now go grab a shower and get into your clothes. We still have those boxes to deal with."

"Yes, ma'am," Derek said with a half-salute. "I'm good at dealin' with boxes." He bounded off the bed and strode to the bathroom. Sally watched his muscular buttocks and hams ripple as he stepped across the threshold. She rolled over and lazily ran her right hand from her chin over her breasts and belly to her fluffy mons. Dipping her fingers into her gooey nest she teased her clit and thought "I hope Claude's having as much fun with Megan and Nel as I'm having with Kee's nephew!"

*

After affectionately touching Derek's shoulder and urging him, "Be good and mind whatever Ms. Martin says, right?" Keanna had left the porch and marched on her 3" high heels down the walk to her Ceramic Blue 2015 Dodge Viper parked in the Martin driveway. She opened the door and slid her cream sharkskin pencil skirt across the leather and enclosed herself in the cockpit with a satisfied sigh. She fired up the engine, throatily backed slowly out into the street, re-aligned the sports car's nose and pulled into her own driveway, 100 feet down the way on the opposite side of Sally's house. She idled the engine, feeling its power move through her as the automatic garage door opened. "Take some heat and think, girl," she said aloud, clenching her hands on the padded leather steering wheel as her fingers remembered the hardness of Derek's muscles under his warm-up jacket. "He's still a boy AND he is your nephew."

Keanna parked the Viper and walked into her home, unbuttoning her suit jacket as she went. She tugged her silk camisole free from her waistband and kicked out of her mules, carrying them with her while she walked stocking footed toward her bedroom. Along the way she opened the door to her home sauna and flipped the thermostat to 170 degrees. In the master bedroom, Keanna finished stripping and hanging up her clothes and then regarded her shapely 5'10" form in the floor-to-ceiling dressing mirror in her walk-in closet.

Early puberty, a blessed complexion plus a couple of lucky breaks had led to modeling teen clothes when Keanna was still only 11 years old. She was a full time professional model with a private tutor at age 15 and was a top tier moneymaker on the European design houses' runways 4 years later. She retired in 2014, on her 29th birthday, at the peak of her popularity, much to the dismay and disappointment of the international couture. She did not know if it was true that P.T. Barnum's best advice was 'Always leave them wanting more,' but she had subscribed to the philosophy when she realized her financial set up would allow her to do exactly that. But now, on the eve of her 31st birthday, Keanna felt oddly anxious, jealous and empty. She was outwardly successful, even enviable, but her two years away from the hectic life of high fashion was cause for pause.

Keanna cupped her hands under her breasts and twisted her torso 45 degrees to her left and then to her right. She examined them for lumps while admiring their elasticity. As she stroked her pink palms upward, from her boobs' dark full firm bases to their tapered, ebony, dime-sized circles, almost completely covered by her thick nipples, Keanna considered the small binary bumps huddled around the areolae perimeters. "You need a baby, Baby, THAT's what's missin' in YOUR world," she muttered softly to herself. "Tick tock, hear the clock, find yourself a virile cock." She rubbed her index fingertips lightly over the clusters. Her tips hardened and popped like black raspberries on giant ganache encased cupcakes.

Keanna walked nude back down the hall. Her first project after buying her house had been converting one of the 10 x 12 bedrooms into a sauna bath. It was her special escape. The sauna itself was nearly 60 square feet with a 7 foot ceiling and double tiered benches for lounging. It easily accommodated four adults, although, in fact, in 18 months she had had no company in it. She once dated a Denver Nugget but, when she asked him to come home with her, he had admitted he was gay and was just going out with her for cover. "But I really like you, though," she remembered he had said, sincerely, "We can still be friends, right?" While that was not a problem for Keanna, and they did remain good friends, it had put the kibosh on her romantic concept of sauna sharing.

Keanna stood at the sink near the shower stall, removed her jewelry and placed it in a glass dish on the counter. She grabbed an apricot Turkish towel from the shelf and pulled a matching terrycloth head band over her short natural afro, adjusting it at the top of her forehead and over her ears. She loved to sweat but not into her eyes. After a quick squat on the toilet she was ready. She half-filled the wooden bucket with fresh water and stepped into the oven, already at 145 and rising. The dry heat filled her lungs and she sighed with a smile as she spread her towel on the bench and sprawled on her back. The hemlock wood, in addition to its other great sauna properties, added no odor to the hot room. Keanna could clear her mind and, with the lights off, deprive herself of all senses save the temperature itself.

In a few minutes, Keanna felt her perspiration begin to jump out of her opening pores. She sat up and ladled some water over the peridotite stones on the heater. They hissed and sent steam to kiss her. Wave upon wave of soothing heat penetrated deep, seemingly to her very bones. The sweat rivulets grew to rills, then creeks, as they flowed over her breasts, across her stomach and gathered in the trimmed tight curly pubic hairs above her long thin pussy. They tickled her clit as they fled along her slice, leaving thrilling tracks on her inner thighs before draining onto the wooden bench. She slid her hand between her legs and teased herself while she returned to her debate about Derek. So far she was only guilty, if guilt was assignable, of fantastic thoughts and furtive looks.

Her sister had called from Chicago on Thursday to ask if Derek could spend the long weekend in Denver before he continued on to Corvallis, Oregon, where he had accepted a full-ride basketball scholarship at Oregon State University. Keanna had immediately agreed. Kalena was five years older than she, but, because of a mistake on prom night, had missed out on a lot of opportunities. While Keanna was in Los Angeles, New York, and later, Paris, London and Milan, Kalena was a struggling unwed parent facing real consequences alone. The sad truth was Derek was never accepted by his maternal grandparents and his mother refused to identify the boy who knocked her up. Derek's dad graduated high school, joined the U.S. Marines and died on a foreign dirt road unaware he had left an heir who would never claim his name.

Keanna smiled as her mind flashed back to the summer of 1999. She was home in Calumet Heights, Chicago, after a two-week shoot for back-to-school clothes for a major manufacturer in Los Angeles. She visited her exiled sister and 18-month old nephew in Kalena's efficiency apartment near Hyde Park. It was hot. The air conditioning was on the fritz and Kalena dabbed Derek's little brown face with a washrag soaked in ice-water as the sisters talked. That was when Keanna got the story of how Kalena named her son. In the hospital she was under pressure to come up with something for the birth certificate, but she was resolved not to reveal the true father. A candy-striper had left behind, of all things, a sports magazine. Kalena read an article in it about the Yankees' shortstop, Derek Jeter. On another page, there was an advertisement for a newly published biography of the famous boxer, Larry Holmes. Kalena made up her mind to borrow names from these black sports heroes and hope for the best. Derek Holmes sounded better to her than Larry Jeter, so she had gone with that, declining to specify the father further.

Keanna gasped as she fiddled with her clitoris and Derek's swaddled baby body morphed. in her mind's eye, into a tall, sculpted, naked, black man holding her hips and driving his hard cock home. "Nnnyyaahh," she moaned as a mini-orgasm jolted momentarily in her gut. She clamped her legs around her wrist until the wondrous feeling passed.

Keanna left the sauna, turning it off and adjusting the timer to re-kick the rocks for 9 p.m., in case she wanted another session, then stepped into the shower stall and turned the cold tap on full. The icy needles were heaven and she knew all her dead sluffed off dermal cells were racing down the drain, leaving her with fresh new skin and a cleansed relaxed body. She dried off and put her jewelry back on, noting she had just enough time for an hour nap before meeting Sally and Derek for pizza.

*

Sally Martin stood in the foyer, facing the front door, searching her purse to make sure she had house keys, then paused and called out, "Derek! It's a quarter to six... your Aunt Keanna will be waiting." She listened for an answer. Hearing nothing, she shouted, "DEREK? Are you COMING?" just as she felt the young man's hands cover and crush her boobs through her simple sleeveless button-front white cotton blouse.

"Not yet, I ain't", Derek growled, low in his throat, "But... you don't gotta shout so... I'm right... HERE!" he hissed in Sally's ear, pulling her back hard against his chest and mauling her tits in her underwire bra.

The quiet way Derek had snuck up on her disconcerted Sally. She moaned as his fingertips and thumbs twisted her swollen nipples and caps. "Derek... " she panted, "BeHAVE! Uuhhnnn, don't... start something when there's... no UUUnnnn! TIME to... finish!" Her face flushed and her pussy gushed as Derek's right hand cruised from her breast over her protuberant belly bulge, pushing the front pleats of her sky-blue asymmetrical hemmed skirt between her legs. His strong long fingers grabbed her moistening cunt and squeezed its lips with a gentle firm authority.

"We got time, if you WANT time, Ms. Martin," Derek cooed, shoving his pelvis forward against her butt. He pressed her front and back while his left hand palped her trapped aching tit. "We gotten pretty... close... don't you think I could call you... 'Aunt Sally' or, even just... 'Sally', MS. Martin?" He breathed heavily, his powerful chest heaved against her shoulder blades as he manipulated her with so many moving parts that Sally's mind could not track all her reactive nerves. She loved their concert, though.

"Nnnyyaaah," Sally whimpered, dropping her purse and sagging back against the tall sturdy support Derek's body offered hers. "Yessss," she wheezed weakly, "Saaa...lly is... uuuhhhnnn, OK!"

Derek grinned over his captive's shoulder at the purse's spilled contents on the hall's parquet floor. He pushed Sally forward, pinning her against the paneled front door, and dropped his right hand below the skirt hem, draping the soft material over his wrist as he returned to her freely flowing quim. "Now... SALLY," he whispered, tugging at her panties' front waist, "THESE... have GOT to... GO!" He yanked down their elastic waistband and inserted his middle fingers quickly into her slit, squeezing her lips around them with his index and little fingers while his broad thumb pad depressed Sally's attentive clitoris.

"AYYEEESSS! Oh, JESUS! DEREK!" Sally screamed in her crisis, through lips crushed against the painted door's brass peephole. Derek chuckled softly against the nape of her neck, squishing his fingers in her deluge while still massaging her pancaked breast. He dry-humped Sally's ass through his silk boxers, polyester Puma track pants and her flimsy cotton skirt.

"Sally, Sally, AUNT SALLY!" Derek chanted, "You gonna be mean? Gonna make me shoot in my pants?" He removed his hands from her cunt and boob, spinning her, re-pinning her, backed up against the door. "Don't you wanna be NICE to your new nephew?" He kissed her hard and mumbled into her mouth, "Invite me INSIDE why don't you?"

Sally's fever was bursting at all points. She chirred "Yesss, COME... INSIDE... Hurry!" Her words were indistinct, since they were swallowed by Derek's lips, but he got the message. In a flash he had her panties and his warm-ups and shorts down. He plunged his thick, long, black dick into her wet, waiting, pink pussy. His kinky charcoal curls interwove with Sally's thick, straight, light brown muff.